Back to the West: The Damned
by AKDyadyaVasya
Summary: As the Corps recovers in New Vegas, their leader missing, a single spontaneous decision sets off a chain of events that will decide the fate of two warring nations, a beautiful and mysterious young woman, and the core of the Mojave itself. Sequel to CoR.
1. State of Mind

**Back to the West: The Damned**

**Author's Note:**

_About a year and a half ago, a basic story idea came into my mind: a group of travelers headed westward across a vast expanse of land in the spirit of Lewis and Clark. Upon further thought, I realized that this idea would fit perfectly in the Fallout world, what with the series being deeply intertwined with American history. I first viewed it as a way to flex my writing muscle, something I haven't done in a while. I honestly did not think it would go too far, and I would not get many reviews, as I was completely new to . However, within the first few chapters, I got several good reviews, with two particular reviewers (BeGodlyBeLynn and Kingoftheplankton) giving me constant feedback on how to improve. After that, the story took off. Despite the fact that it was in limbo for several months after a few chapters, a random review brought me back, and I never slowed down again. As I went on, a massive, sweeping tale opened up in my mind instead of the slightly unorganized, single storyline that I had originally planned._

_With the future of what was now a series planned, I contacted another Fallout Fan Fiction author, BeGodlyBeLynn and we hammered out an idea for an intertwining tale. I suggest you check out her side of this story, the first chapter or two should already be up. In fact, read through all of her stories. She's a damn good writer, and her stories have a way of drawing you in._

_I'd like to thank another reviewer, who went all out (and I truly mean that in the best sense of the phrase) and reviewed forty times. Scarlet Rabbit, you're awesome. Thanks_

_Now, to end this already overly long introduction, I present to you the second entry in the Back to the West series: The Damned._

_._

_._

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**Part 1 – State of Mind**

"My name is Donnovan Edan. I'm a Knight in the Brotherhood of Steel assigned to a special mission by Elder Lyons from the Capital Wasteland. We've been on the road for almost eleven months now. Sure as hell seems longer. The three weeks we've been here seems like nothing compared to how long we've been walking. Quite a bit has happened since then. There's a lot of crazy shit around here. I wish I had a camera to take some pictures of some of those things, but most of the time they killed something, so I guess it's not that nice. It's been a long road, and we've lost some people. Life's cheap out here."

"Considering the shit we've been through, I'm gonna give us props on staying out of major trouble for long. We managed to piss off the Brotherhood in the Midwest, but I don't think they'll follow us all the way to Nevada. Yeah, that's right. Nevada. And we came from the Capital Wasteland."

"If you're reading this and I'm dead… Well, I really don't care what you think, blow me. I've definitely walked further than you in less than a year than you have in a lifetime. Heh."

"Anyway, we're going to hunker down in New Vegas for a bit. Makes me think of the Vault, just flashier and with more color. And more half-naked chicks running around (Some of them shouldn't, though. Some of those battle wounds are gross. And apparently it's possible to get fat in the wastes.). I figured we could rest for a bit, somehow. Things are pretty quiet. We're not at the New Vegas Strip. Too much commotion and too risky. We're just hanging out in a house near the area. No roof, but it comes with perks. Lots of space, it's quiet, and we have a place to tie up our stuff. Hell even our pack 'bots and our remaining brahmin have a decent shed we've connected to the house with some tarps (Yeah, you read right. One brahmin. The only one that survived the trip out of almost half a dozen.). Not bad all in all. Not much privacy, though. Morgan's looking over my shoulder right now. Let a man write in peace, Morgan, God damn."

"Morrill fucked off a week in, telling us to stay put until he gets back, no matter what. Said he's looking for assistance. Who know where the hell he'll find it. The entire region is crawling with NCR. They're not terribly friendly to us, and from what Sarah and the others have told me, it's no surprise why. I guess the Brotherhood are particularly dickish out here, though I doubt anyone can reach the same level of assholishness as those Midwestern fucks… It's kind of getting to me. Is the Capital Brotherhood kind of shunted out because we're not psychos…? I hope the Lost Hills guys aren't complete pricks too… But who am I kidding…?"

"I'm glad that we have some down time. I think everyone's kinda relaxing in their own way. Olin's just trying to clean and fix everything that shoots. She asked me for my gun twice today. Nooooo. I'm holding onto this thing unless I'm absolutely sure it's damaged in some way. Besides, it's an AK. Just smack it and you're good to go. Amata's…it's like she pressed the mute button in her head, she won't talk in full sentences. I don't know what's up. Maybe it's all getting to her. Though we both stumbled out of the vault, I had plenty of time to acclimate and get used to that environment. She was thrust into it faster than anyone should ever be. Dusk's teaching me to shoot properly and spending the rest of her time drinking her ass under the table. She managed to upgrade the rifles, though, so kudos. They're 'weigh' lighter now. Excuse the pun. Everyone's kind of…fitting in with the Mojave life, I guess. Not bad at all."

"Anyway, nice to be able to chill for a bit, though at the same time I'm wondering what's next. We've been here a week longer than Morrill originally intended… And he's not here… I guess it'd also be better if I didn't know we were in the middle of a war zone. It's this conflict between the NCR and the Caesar's Legion (both I don't care to explain, besides, if I die here, whoever finds it will understand) over the Hoover Dam. I don't see why they can't all share. Sharing is caring, right? Speaking of sharing and caring, you've got the prostitutes, gambling, and other debauchery in New Vegas itself. The place is fucked up. There are rumors that in the Ultra-Luxe, the ritziest and most pretentious place on the Strip, its patrons are disappearing, but nobody talks about it openly and nobody tells anyone. Just little whispers. Weird. Gomorrah is just sketchy, I guess. Like something out of a bad pre-war porn movie. Though it does allow you to be as wild as you want, so that's nice. Tops is okay, but everyone talks dipshit in there, and the Lucky 38 looks really awesome but it's totally sealed off to the world.

Freeside is pretty much on the outskirts of the Strip, and it's messed up too. It's like if the ruins of DC were filled with junkies and gangs and…well, it is. Bad analogy. Sorry. (Shit. 200 year old erasers suck.) Anyway, it's just a really shitty place. Lots of drugs. Crime. And stuff. Fun, fun, fun.

Well, I'm going to stop now. I don't usually write diaries, but hey, I was bored. Just in case I die, hopefully someone will remember me. Life's fucking cheap. I just don't want to be the next to cash in. Christ… Three weeks and I'm making gambling-related puns… I'm turning into one of those Tops idiots…"

Defender Anne Marie Morgan inhaled as she looked over the paper in her hands again. She ran her hand across her freshly shaved head. Her black hair had grown out during the trip, though she had always kept it under her helmet or a bandana. The first time she removed her bandana upon reaching New Vegas, the men in the expedition couldn't help but stare. This was party due to the fact that Morgan, with her hair grown out, looked very attractive. The main reason was just the shock, as no one had ever seen Morgan with long hair. Most of the males in the group were wholeheartedly against her shaving her head again, but Morgan insisted, saying it got in her way. Morgan was the stereotypical "touch chick" of the group. She was a strong, dark-skinned woman in her early thirties and was not someone to cross. Intelligent and calculating, she was the expedition's voice of reality, not once being wrong about her assessment of how a situation would unfold. Nevertheless, she was possibly the most protective of the group, sometimes coldly ignoring others if it would help any member of the expedition in any way.

"That was a long letter." Specialist Olin snickered, briefly looking up from her work that lay on a table in front of her. A gutted laser pistol was lying in front of her as she looked at Morgan through her welding goggles and grinned, her blonde hair hanging to her ears, grown out from her usually neat and parted style. Olin was the expedition's resident tech girl. If there was something to be repaired or hacked, she was the expert. A pale young woman of about twenty three, her bright attitude hid a slightly worrisome demeanor when any sort of danger was about. "Talk about a long train of thought."

Morgan snorted derisively, though a smile nevertheless remained on her face as she held the paper Donnovan had written. "His train of thought never left the boarding station." She folded the paper back to its original state and stowed it in Donnovan's pack, which was leaning against his bedpost.

"Don't you think he'll get mad that you read it?" Olin asked, the tip of her welding torch spitting out a blue flame as she worked and sparks flew, seated on a repurposed barstool.

"Well he isn't really keeping those thoughts secret, so I don't think he'll mind." Morgan answered, throwing herself on the cot, which was laid out over a rusted metal bed frame. "I told him to stop dwelling on that. Besides, it's not like he could stop me."

Olin shut the flow of acetylene to her welding torch. She removed her goggles and placed them on her forehead, the protective equipment leaving her with a white, raccoon pattern-like outline around her eyes. "Where is Donnovan, anyway?"

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Where do you think…?"

.

.

.

"Do it you, you pussy. She has you, otherwise."

"She's on the verge, dude. I-I can't."

"Don't be a bitch. All or nothing. If you don't do it now, you'll regret it later."

"Fuck off, man. It's not on you, it's on me."

"Do it already."

"Get off my ass."

"You're too deep already. Take the hit, damn you."

"I'm gonna fucking hit you if you don't shut up."

"Good one…"

Donnovan ignored the man giving him advice and locked eyes with the good-looking, blonde haired young woman in front of him. His eyebrows furrowed and his arms tensed as he pushed his mind into a decision, his mouth forming the words with a slight tinge of regret.

"Hit me."

The young woman smiled, took the top card off of the nearby deck resting on the table, then placed the nine of hearts face up on top of a five of clubs, a three of hearts, and a four of diamonds.

"FUCK YEAH!" Donnovan yelled, standing up a bit too quickly and knocking the stool he had been sitting on over. The young man slowly and roughly shook his arms like an awkward bird to rid himself of any excess adrenaline. He ran a hand through his short brown hair before turning to look at his companion.

"Told you." A large, muscular, heavyset man with a buzz cut stared back at him with disdain.

Donnovan glared at his friend. "Glade… She was at sixteen. She would have busted. That doesn't make you right."

"But it doesn't make me wrong, either." Glade yawned.

"Sir…?" The dealer asked, unsurely. "Are you in for the next hand?"

Donnovan turned his attention back to the table. "Oh, uh… No. No thanks, I'm set."

"Yes sir. That's…" The dealer quickly stacked Donnovan's chips into six neat stacks, the last being slightly shorter than the rest. "One thousand, two hundred fifty." She switched his winnings to two almost equally-sized stacks of higher value chips.

"Awesome." Donnovan pumped his fist before taking his chips. "Oh." He took the only chip valued at fifty and placed it on the table. "That's for you."

"Thank you, sir." The dealer smiled, taking the chip before turning back to the other players.

Paladin Glade and Knight Donnovan Edan, a.k.a. the Lone Wanderer, left them to it, making their way past other gambling game tables as they walked through the foyer lit up by neon lights of varying tint and color.

Donnovan and Glade, despite looking completely different, were very close friends. Glade was in his mid forties, but showed no signs of that age, neither in physicality nor attitude. He was strong and slightly intimidating to those that didn't know him due to his height and very muscular build. His distinguished appearance hid a rather immature attitude, which seemed to come out the most when he was around Donnovan, and to a lesser extent, Dusk. Despite his idiosyncrasies, he was one of the expedition's battle-hardened heavy weapons specialists. Though he also knew quite a bit about weapon forging and computers himself, he preferred to leave those jobs to Olin, who was much better skilled in those fields than he was. That fact never bothered him, as it gave him an excuse to not only be in a helper role to Olin where he could learn more from the young woman, but also gave him more freedom to concentrate on combat, which he much preferred.

Donnovan on the other hand was more than twenty years younger than Glade, right around Olin's age. He was a wirey young man with short brown hair. He nourished a love for history, having grown up in Vault 101 with access to endless archives of book, photographs, and videos. He was what Glade called "a moronic smartass", due to his tendency to lose the ability to shut his mouth when needed. It had gotten him into trouble several times, and had forced the others to come bail him out. The last of these times was getting bodily tossed into Freeside by one of the many Securitron robots that patrolled the Strip. Donnovan was slightly shorter and much less bulky than the other males of the expedition, which was usually the source of some teasing. Though good natured, it bothered Donnovan a bit more than he let on. Donnovan was a fine grunt soldier in his own right. Several months ago however, he had began taking sniper lessons from the expedition's sharpshooter, Knight Captain Dusk. This began when Dusk noticed Donnovan's surprisingly sharp eyesight after he alerted the expedition of an upcoming raid while their group was traveling through the Midwest.

As they walked on through the large room, Donnovan and Glade discussed the finer points of the game of Blackjack and the hands that Donnovan had won with. The lights in the building showed lightly on dark carpets, patrons, and the skin of unclothed people of various sexes and skin types dancing in cages. Despite the seedy looking interior and infamous reputation, the Gomorrah had fast become Donnovan's favorite casino. Because of his overly energetic demeanor while gambling, he had almost been banned from the "high-class" Ultra-Lux. Luckily he had been with Glade and Rockfowl while there, so the guards only asked him to leave for the day, being intimidated by the two heavy weapons operators. The Tops, though an entertaining place to be, got on his nerves after a while. Despite the usually interesting shows the casino sporadically held, everyone working there spoke using rather tedious, gambling-related puns and phrases, which became annoying very quickly. The Gomorrah, meanwhile, was much more to his style. The owners were adamant on serving copious amounts of free alcohol to gamblers, insisted on raucous celebrations, and even encouraged the grabbing of the hindquarters of their wait staff. Though Donnovan didn't necessarily like everything about the place, it still allowed him to be his loud, boisterous self when he was drunk.

Donnovan twisted the two stacks of chips in his hand as he and Glade headed for the exit. "Not bad. Made everything back and then some."

"The hell's that mean?" Glade raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I was down three hundred, day before yesterday…" Donnovan raised his eyes to the ceiling, remembering. "Hit a hot streak, and made more than that back today."

Glade frowned. "How the fuck did you manage to lose three hundred? Even you're not that dumb when drinking." The man stopped, a realization hitting him. "Where the hell were you that night, anyway? You weren't in your bed yesterday morning."

"Absinthe." Donnovan looked at Glade with an expression of concern. "Switching off between absinthe shots and gin and tonic doubles… That shit was like Moira Brown's crazy in liquid form."

Glade laughed, while Donnovan's expression didn't change.

"No, seriously." Donnovan continued, his eyes growing wide with terror. "I woke up inside a dumpster down some shit-heap alley in Freeside covered in puke, wearing five pairs of sunglasses, and holding a hand-scrawled sign that said 'The Molerats Are Coming.'"

Glade snorted. "You wore sunglasses at night…"

"Really, dude?" Donnovan looked at Glade. "That's what gets your attention from that clusterfuck? Sunglasses?"

"It is you we're talking about." Glade shrugged.

"Oh yeah." Donnovan cocked his head to the side as he and Glade reached the entry hall. "Still though…"

"Number one-oh-five." Glade mentioned in passing to one of the receptionists. He handed the employee a small card with the same numbers printed on it, which represented the weapons the two men had stored upon their entry to the heavily guarded casino. "You need to calm yourself, man. I'm getting bored too, but you can't pull shit like that."

Donnovan turned around, leaning backwards against the counter and turning his head toward Glade. "Gambling and drinking's all I got right now, dude… Well, besides the sniper lessons with Dusk."

"Come on." Glade looked at him judgmentally. "I know it's been two weeks since Morrill's been gone, but-"

There was a massive thudding sound, and Glade winced slightly. His and Donnovan's gear had arrived. Glade gave the receptionist the stink eye.

"You were saying," Donnovan prompted Glade as he examined his 1911 before stowing it in its holster. His new M1911 had taken the place of his prized .44 scoped magnum revolver that he had given to a young woman back in New Canaan during the sacking of the town.

"Find something to do that won't get you hauled off by those televisions on wheels." Glade explained as he slid his double-barreled shotgun into the large holster on his back.

Donnovan briefly checked the bolt on his AK-47 before slinging it across his back. "Since when did you become the wise man, eh?"

Glade gave Donnovan a friendly shove as they pushed the doors open into the streets outside.


	2. Choices

**Part 2 – Choices**

Well-dressed gamblers and drunk NCR soldiers wandered to and fro in the bustling, cleanly swept street. Most everything was neat and tidy, save for the occasional puddles of puke that were left by a gambler or a soldier who had drank more than they could handle. Even those were cleaned up rather quickly by workers and robots. It was barely after noon in the day and the sun still hung high in the sky. Most of the famous Vegas lights were off save for the main signs advertising the casino. As Donnovan and Glade pushed their way through the crowds, heading for the main gate, they briefly glanced at the towering spire of the Lucky 38 Casino. It was completely closed off to the public, though its structures still lit up the entire Strip during the night. This was the supposed home of Mr. House. Despite his curiosity, Donnovan had not managed to enter the Lucky 38. It was not for lack of trying. The visible, outer doors seemed to be machine operated, and a Securitron robot guarded the sealed entrance. On the screen, a cheery looking cowboy was frozen in a permanent wink, and the robot's voice seemed to come straight out of one of one of the classic, pre-war, Old West movies Donnovan had seen back in Vault 101. Donnovan and Glade walked forward, taking the long way out of the area: Freeside.

Only the brave, stupid, or extremely well-armed entered the Strip through Freeside. Most of the pampered visitors preferring to take the monorail line from the large NCR base known as Camp McCarren. It was much safer, not least of which due to the fact that on every trip there, the passengers included NCR soldiers on leave. Despite the complaints about the overall NCR government, the soldiers were usually very well trained. Donnovan's thoughts about the mysterious Mr. House, his imposing casino, the NCR presence, and the Strip as a whole were soon thrust out of his head as he and Glade entered Freeside.

The contrast between Freeside and the Strip was shocking, no matter how many times one went through the south Vegas gates. Donnovan had stowed his chips safely before entering the ghetto, knowing this would only draw attention, and he planned on gambling for several days to come without several extra knife wounds. Trash-filled side alleys and decent sized streets shot off from the massive, main, two-lane drag that made up the slum, no doubt used by cars in the pre-War world. The road was flanked on both sides by several-story buildings, from which occasionally a scream or gunshot could be heard. Here and there, dirty towels and dingy blankets hung from windowsills, the remaining individual apartments and rooms in the buildings and businesses that weren't occupied being claimed by NCR squatters long ago. Glade, almost always happy and go-lucky, walked on without a care in the world. Donnovan on the other hand unsuccessfully attempted to avoid taking in the sights of Freeside every time he walked through it. He tried hard to keep his mind on the philosophy Morgan had instilled in his head several months ago: "only care about your own." It was difficult, however, watching people suffer. In the trips he'd taken through Freeside to the Strip, he'd seen something that pained him every time, and yet, did not react. A murder here, a mugging there; he simply could not bring himself to make a move. The only time he had intervened was when a scruffy, middle-aged man clad in a dirty brahmin-skin traveling outfit attempted to drag off a small girl by her hand down a side street. He had cracked the man in the mouth with the butt of his assault rifle, stopping the attempted kidnapping and god knows what else, but that was it. The very next day, he had walked right by an alley where he saw two obviously jet-addicted tweakers with rusty golf clubs beat a man's head in over the dose of psycho in his pockets. Despite his focus on Morgan's mantra, there was a constant battle raging in his head as to whether or not to intervene into the seemingly daily life of Freeside. These thoughts were soon interrupted as two men gripping knives and clad in torn tan leather resembling raider outfits began to make their way toward Glade and Donnovan.

"Yo, Don." Glade grunted, keeping his eyes looking forward as the unscrupulous-looking men closed the distance, whispering to each other. One of them was scratching himself furiously on the shoulder with his free hand, an obvious sign of Jet addiction.

"I see them." Donnovan stated with a laugh as he glanced at Glade, both of them acting like they hadn't noticed. It was rather difficult to do this, as the two men advancing on them weren't exactly being surreptitious. A nearby member of the gang known as the King paused in lighting a cigarette, his eyes fixed on the two men. He kept the flame of his lighter burning with one hand, while his free one hovered over the pistol on his hip. The Kings weren't the typical gang. Despite their rather intense dislike for the increasing number of NCR squatters in the area, they cared about the original residents of Freeside and usually attempted to help with what resources they had. This particular King hadn't readied himself to necessarily protect the travelers, but was prepared to jump on the chance to clear out two of the minor problems with Freeside.

When the men finally caught up with Donnovan and Glade, the two reacted with the precision and lighting reflexes that could only have been gained fighting in the claustrophobic ruins of Washington D.C. As one of the men drew his knife back, Glade spun around, clenching his hand into a fist. The hand of the large man connected with the jaw of the attempted mugger and sent him sprawling to his right, the knife clattering away. The thug attempting to knife Donnovan had only raised his knife and stepped forward, when Donnovan whirled around, gripped the man's wrist, and using the man's own momentum, tossed him forward. The man landed painfully on his back, his knife laying forgotten several inches away. It happened so quickly that the King gangster's eyes widened, the flame still going on his lighter. He cut off the fuel to the lighter before taking in the rest of the scene.

Glade stepped forward, grabbed the man by his throat, and raised him into the air with one arm. The skinny jet-addict's weight was nothing to the incredibly powerful heavy weapons specialist of Lyons Pride.

"You know," Glade sneered, drawing his sawed-off shotgun, double barreled shotgun from his back and putting the barrels to the powerless man's stomach, "you really need to be more careful in who you try to mug, shit-for-brains."

The attacker could only rasp out a barely audible word in response. "Sorry."

Glade tossed the man aside, causing him to land next to the thug that had tried to attack Donnovan. The young man had drawn his M1911 and was standing over his attacker, gloating.

"Get your fix elsewhere, you dirty son of a bitch."

"Don." Glade interrupted. "Let's just go."

Donnovan nodded, returning his pistol to its holster. "Not worth the caps I'd spent on the bullet."

Glade shoved Donnovan in a friendly manner and laughed. "The fuck are they thinking, attacking us?"

"Dunno." Donnovan shrugged, but smiled nevertheless. The rush of adrenaline from the attack had briefly taken over his conflicting thoughts on Freeside.

They were no more than twenty feet from the site of their attack, right at the exit gates when a gunshot rang out from very close by. The two drew their weapons again and whirled around, only to be greeted with the sight of the nearby King gangster standing in the middle of the street, a smoking revolver in his hand. One of the thugs lay motionless on the ground, blood spreading from the back of his skull. The other man, still lying down, panicked. He tried to awkwardly push away from the King gangster, but to no avail. The black-jacketed man pinned the thug to the street with his boot, raised his revolver, and cleanly put a bullet through the mugger's head.

"Fuck me…" Glade muttered.

Donnovan simply stared at the scene It was new, but not exactly unexpected. "Let's… get the hell out of here."

The walk back to the base camp, passing by ruined bridges and over crumbled roads, was spent in quiet discussion. The two were mulling over what they'd seen, and soon fell into silence. Donnovan was still pondering the actions of the King gangster as Glade led the way into the expedition's makeshift basecamp.

"Hell of a day!" Glade announced far too loudly as he entered the repurposed shell of a house.

Over in a corner, a pained grunt came from under a blanket.

"Who's that?" Donnovan asked, tossing his head in the direction of the roused individual.

"Dusk… She's trying to sleep off a hangover." Olin laughed.

"HOW'S YOUR HEAD, DUSK?" Glade practically screamed, causing everyone to jump and Donnovan to wince and put his hands over his ears. In response, a hand with the middle finger extended emerged from under the blankets for several brief seconds.

"Jesus Glade. Loud enough? I don't think they heard you back at the Citadel." Donnovan grumbled.

Glade yawned hugely and threw himself onto the bed he had claimed, the old metal springs of the base squeaking loudly. "I'm thinking about a nap."

Olin glanced at him. "Really? Since when do you take naps, old man?"

Glade snorted and hung his forearm over his eyes. "Says the shut in who's been inside all day."

"Touché."

Donnovan look around. "Where's everybody?"

"Lyons and Yearling headed off to the Silver Rush about half an hour ago, and Rockfowl and Amata are at the Crimson Caravan."

"Where's Morgan?"

Morgan announced her presence before Olin could respond by walking out of a side room clad in her traveling gear. "I'm here, and I can't take it any longer. We're going."

"Huh?" Donnovan shook his head in surprise.

"Get your gear and some guns, we're going to travel. I can't sit here anymore." Morgan commanded.

Donnovan stood rooted to the spot. "Slow the hell down… What now?"

"Going somewhere, Morgan?" Glade lifted his arm and looked over at Morgan.

"Hurry up." Morgan said, annoyed.

"Hold your damn horses!" Donnovan exclaimed, still trying to decide. "How long will we travel?"

Glade looked surprised. "You're actually considering it, Don?"

Morgan ignored Glade. "I'm thinking four days tops if we're slow, but closer to two."

"Two days?" Donnovan cocked an eyebrow.

"We aren't going to go that far. Just Southeast a ways, maybe across the Colorado."

Silence settled on the building. Olin took a break from her tinkering, Donnovan looked surprised, and Glade sat up straight.

"That's Legion territory." Glade said.

"Across the river, yeah, but that's it. The Southeastern Mojave's pretty untamed." Morgan countered.

"Didn't Morrill tell us all to stay put?" Olin questioned, tilting her head slightly.

Morgan rolled her eyes. "He also said he'd be back a week ago and we'd be off to Lost Hills, where we're supposed to be going. He can't honestly expect us to stay put without orders for this long."

Glade snorted. "That's true. I mean hell, if Donnovan didn't get to gamble, he probably would've brought down the whole NCR down on us by, I dunno, accidentally knocking their president off of Hoover Dam or something. Not like he hasn't done shit like that everywhere else."

Olin titled her head. "Yeah, but why do you want to go?"

"Why not?" Morgan asked. "Besides, don't you want to know a bit more about how the Legion caravans travel, and how they're so well supplied?"

Donnovan thought for several more seconds before walking to his pack. "Good enough for me."

"Should've known." Glade yawned, laying back around. "Stay out of trouble."

Donnovan closed up his pack and slung it across his back. He had just set his AK-47 into the straps of the backpack when Dusk's sniper rifle caught his eye. It was leaning against the wall near Olin's desk, completely cleaned. A small stack of .308 ammunition boxes was arranged on the corner of the desk.

"Hey… Dusk…" Donnovan stated walking forward and grabbing the weapon. "I'm borrowing your rifle."

An incomprehensible series of slurred sounds drifted from under the blanket over Dusk's unseen form.

"I'll pay you back for any ammo I use." Donnovan checked the bolt of the rifle before glancing back at Morgan. "Okay, now let's go."

.

.

.

With the proximity of the Arizona border and the Colorado River, it wasn't long before Morgan and Donnovan had the Colorado River in sight. They had been lucky, not seeing hide or hair of any Legion scouts or patrols on their way. Still, though unsecured, they were in an area where both NCR Rangers and the Legion had been sighted, and had tried keeping out of sight by traveling through rocky trails. They had chosen to make camp for the night inside the old wreckage of a pre-War transport plane that had belonged to the Arizona Air National Guard. Not wanting to risk fires, they had packed food that didn't need to be heated or cooked.

"I think there's some other cake-like thing that's supposed to last forever besides these." Donnovan mused as he tossed a sealed Fancy Lad Snack Cake to Morgan, who was seated, cross-legged, across from him.

"How the hell do you know that?" Morgan raised her eyebrow as she carefully tore open the package.

Donnovan shrugged. "Kind of a rumor back in Vault 101. I guess it started way before the war, though. Some yellow, cream-filled cake or something." He leaned back against the wall of the transport plane. It had been used as a shelter before, judging by the discarded wrappers and empty ammunition boxes scattered here and there. Nevertheless, it was a good find, and gave them a rather clear view in all directions through the destroyed windows. The sun had almost set when Donnovan voiced something that was on his mind.

"So I've been really torn lately." He began. Morgan's eyes met his. She didn't need to ask what this meant.

"How so?"

"Freeside. I can't stop thinking about the people there."

"Don…"

"I know, I know… It's just… It's not easy, you know? I've gotten so used to helping people back in the Capital Wasteland, that it seems wrong to just do nothing."

"You're not in D.C., anymore, Don." Morgan said earnestly. "There's no single focus on survival. There's no single caravan chain to support. There's no Three Dog to talk about your actions and encourage people to stay strong. We're in the middle of a warzone, where even the damn merchants have taken sides. Civilians will always suffer in war. You know that better than anyone."

Donnovan was quiet for several seconds, thinking back to his father sacrificing himself to keep Project Purity out of the hands of the Enclave. "I know. I just feel like a terrible person walking by a mugging or a beating."

"What if you killed a mugger attacking someone, and the mugger ended up being a King gangster? You'd probably have the entire gang out looking for you because you got mixed up in business that wasn't your own. It's far more complicated here than probably anywhere else in the entire world. Politics, blood, lead, and lasers make for a potent, chaotic mix."

"I guess." Donnovan muttered. "How do you-?" He looked up, only to see Morgan looking over his shoulder through one of the broken windows of the plane. She held a finger up to her lips, and Donnovan whirled around.

They had been so engrossed in their conversation that they had let their guard down. From the distance, several figures had appeared and were growing larger as they neared. Donnovan and Morgan watched briefly, before Morgan voiced something that should've been immediately obvious to both of them.

"They're going to come through here."

Whoever these people were, Donnovan and Morgan preferred not to come into contact with them, or rather anyone at all in this area. They quickly began to pack up their gear as quietly as they could. Donnovan's pack was ready first. Taking advantage of his early finish, Donnovan grabbed Dusk's borrowed rifle and peered through the scope. Through the ever-fading light, he could make out the unmistakable shoulder pads and red cloth that made up the armor of soldiers of Caesar's Legion. There were three of them. Two were wearing red cowls that covered their heads, while a third wore a hard leather helmet and sunglasses, a balaclava covering his mouth. One of the cowl-wearing Legionaries was gripping a rope. The other end of the rope was wrapped tightly around the wrists of a fourth person, a female, judging by the shape of the prisoner's body. A bag had been placed over her head, and another rope connected her two ankles together, so that she was forced to take rapid, small steps to keep up with her captors.

"Morgan. They're Legion. They;ve caught someone!" Donnovan whispered.

"So what?" Morgan retorted. "It's none of our business. Let's go."

"What? Come on, they've caught someone. They've got her bound." Donnovan said quietly.

"Bound? What not a slave collar? That isn't suspicious to you?" Morgan asked in a low voice.

"Fuck, I don't know. Maybe the collar was… broken or something." Donnovan suggested.

"Are you serious? They'll hear that damn rifle." Morgan warned.

Donnovan looked away from the scope, awkwardly. "Oh come on, we've seen plenty of bullet-ridden wildlife on the way here."

"Don… Did you just forget the entire conversation we had?"

Donnovan stared at Morgan, a pained expression on his face as he fought with his confliction emotions yet again. Finally, his altruistic side won out. "God fucking dammit." He hissed, cursing his own actions as he chambered a round into the sniper rifle and set the sights on the Legionary escorting the prisoner.

"Dammit to hell, Don." Morgan shook her head before jamming a magazine into her G3.


	3. Crossing Paths

**Part 3 – Crossing Paths**

Donnovan looked on as the Legionary with the prisoner gave the rope a yank, and she tumbled to the ground. Her legs were shaking violently as she picked herself up, and it was obvious she had been forced to walk a long way in a very awkward fashion. Adding the likely dehydration and lack of food, her leg muscles were on the verge of giving out. This did not concern the Legionaries, who laughed and began to jerk her forward, trying to make her fall again. Sensing that the prisoner's time was limited, Donnovan set the crosshairs of his loaned rifle on the lower, center forehead of the Legionnaire dragging the exhausted looking prisoner along. Morgan, meanwhile, had silently crept out of the wrecked plane. She had crawled to a small rock outcropping approximately a yard away in preparation. Wondering what sort of angry lecture Morgan would undoubtedly give him later for what he was about to do, Donnovan slowly exhaled as Dusk had taught him, and quickly squeezed the trigger.

The rifle roared and the Legionary's nose disappeared, collapsing inward as the .308 round punched neatly through his skull and tore out through the back of his head, pulling a messy spray of blood and brain matter with it. The man dropped forward to the ground like a ragdoll, pulling the captured female prisoner down with him. She twisted and fell backwards, her shoulder blades landing square on her deceased captor's lower back. The other cowl wearing Legion soldier, apparently inexperienced in combat, drew his pistol and panicked, wildly swinging around in an attempt to find the source of the shot. The Legionary with the helmet, an obvious veteran, located Donnovan almost immediately and began to raise his rifle when a three round burst from Morgan's assault rifle ripped into him. A round caught the bridge of his sunglasses and they shattered as the man crumpled to the ground, his face a bloody mess. The surviving Legionary had no chance, managing only took look at Morgan before Donnovan put a rifle round through his chest and sent him falling backwards onto his dead brother in arms and their prisoner, blood spraying from the gaping cavity over his left pectoral.

When the last Legionary fell dead, Donnovan was on his feet and running towards the scene. He didn't know how long their prisoner had been on her feet, but given the amount of exposure and exertion that must have been thrown at her, she could expire very quickly if he didn't hustle. His survival skills kicked in. Donnovan knew that the suffocation from the bag was a priority, so he tore it off first. A weak cry of protest told him that he'd accidentally pulled some hair along with the bag, but she gasped in relief as she was finally allowed to breathe again. It took him a second to realize that she looked rather familiar.

"Thanks," she gasped. "Now… get him off me!" She strained, pushing at the dead Legionary sprawled across her chest. "Now."

Donnovan tried in vain to lift the dead weight by himself, but Legionaries were heavy. This one in particular was rather bulky. He felt another pair of hands helping him with the corpse, and realized that Morgan had caught up with him. When she was relieved of the weight on her chest, he gave the freed prisoner another look, trying to determine if he'd seen her before or if he was simply delirious.

"Maybe it's the exhaustion, but you look familiar," she said faintly as he kneeled down next to her.

He did a double take. Behind the dirt, sweat, and blood, he vaguely recognized the girl. The last time he saw her was in the burning wreckage of New Canaan, when he'd given her a letter and a gun.

"Donnovan?" she asked, before he could say anything more.

"Yeah," he said. "Adriana?"

She nodded. "Can I have some water?"

"Wha—sure," he said, feeling a little embarrassed. He handed her his water bottle. She emptied half of it in one sip and poured the rest on her face.

"Whoa there… Small sips... Small sips…" Donnovan suggested.

"Thanks," she gasped, handing him the empty bottle. "Sorry about that."

He shrugged and took the empty bottle back from her. "It's fine." She only nodded.

"Alright, Adri…" he said, kneeling down and cutting away the ropes that were binding her arms and legs. "What the hell happened?"

Adriana glanced at her surroundings through her exhausted eyes. "Can we get going first? I really want to get as far away from them as possible." She indicated the dead Legionaries.

Donnovan slipped his knife back into his boot then looked over his shoulder at Morgan, who had gathered up Adriana's belongings and the Legionaries' weapons. "Might as well, she's as good as dead without us," Morgan said with a shrug.

"I can handle myself," Adriana protested, shifting to stand up. Donnovan offered up his hand but she refused it. She pushed up off of the dead Legionary, her legs shaking violently. She managed to stand for barely two seconds before falling, forcing Donnovan to jump up and catch her before she fell.

"Drop the 'tough chick' shit, will you?" Donnovan rolled his eyes.

"My legs… If I hadn't just walked-" Adriana began.

"I know, I know." Donnovan interrupted her, shifting the sniper rifle across his back and putting his right arm across Adriana's back. "Look, we've got a ways to go with all of that commotion we made. Let me help you."

She glared at him suspiciously, her attitude returning with the intake of water. She looked like she was going to spit back a sharp retort, but she relented at last. "Fine," she sighed resignedly. Donnovan swept her into his arms, bridal style.

"You ready, Morgan?" Donnovan called over to his companion. She had walked back over to the dead Legionaries and dumped their less useful belongings everywhere.

"Yes. I took their weapons and water." she answered curtly, taking the repossessed weapons. "And now nobody will ever know that Donnovan Edan or Anne Marie Morgan were responsible for this. Could be Jackals."

"Yes, I'm sure that's what they'll say exactly." Donnovan commented sarcastically. He continued on, exaggerating on purpose. " 'No, Caesar, it couldn't have been Defender Anne Marie Morgan of the Brotherhood of Steel Outcasts or Donnovan Edan from Va-" He paused, remembering the presence of Adriana. "- the Capital Wasteland.' "

Adriana glanced up into Donnovan's face in curiosity, but Donnovan continued looking forward, trying not to make eye contact. He had almost revealed to Adriana more about his origins than he wanted anyone outside of the Brotherhood to know. Though he suspected she had a pretty good idea of his background, he nevertheless wanted to be cautious. The last time he had given too much information about himself to a wasteland-wise young woman almost ended in him and Olin being handed over to the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel.

"You understand the idea…" Morgan shook her head in annoyance at Donnovan's short rant."

They moved on, back towards civilization.

"So how'd you get captured?" Donnovan asked Adriana.

"Long story," she replied. "I blame your stupid letter."

Donnovan rolled his eyes. "Blame whatever you want," he retorted, although not unkindly. "I guess you didn't manage to deliver the letter?"

She shook her head. "No. I got…" Her eyes flickered back the way they'd come. "…held up."

As Adriana recounted her story of short journey east, she grew increasingly frustrated, to Donnovan's bewliderment. No sooner had she told Donnovan of her capture near the pre-War border of Utah than her frustration built to a breaking point.

"Donnovan, you're a fuckin' girl, you know that?" she suddenly burst out.

"The fuck did that come from?" Donnovan looked surprised. He glanced over at Morgan, who was striding beside him.

"I told you that you care too much…" Morgan frowned.

"I'm kind of helping you here, in case you haven't noticed." Donnovan grunted in annoyance. "I could let you go." Donnovan hefted her in his arms, which made her jerk.

"DON'T DROP ME!" She screamed. "Actually, put me down."

"Make up your damn mind, will you?" Donnovan said in frustration.

"Put me down. Put me down, putmedownputmedownputmedown."

"God-Jesus… Okay… Fucking hell…" He shot Morgan a glance. She was trying to restrain fits of laughter. "Women," he grumbled under his breath, setting her down on the sand. But she didn't let go of his neck.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you wanted to come down."

She gave him a sheepish smile.

"God dammit," he grumbled again, and scooped her back up. He was expecting more complaints, but she apparently had none left. Good, he thought. If she complained one more time he might throw her.

Adriana fell asleep on the walk back to New Vegas. The journey was slow but quiet. She was skinny, but she was still a dead weight in his arms. As the sun dipped over the horizon, Donnovan and Morgan quietly realized that they wouldn't get back into the Mojave proper before sundown.

"I don't know if I want to head out in the dark," Donnovan said to her.

Morgan nodded. "We should find a place to spend the night. Preferably a place where we can refill our water bottles, though I doubt any are around," she added pointedly, looking at Adriana.

They settled on flat patch of dirt loomed over by a large rock cluster. A rock shelf jutted out over them, and Morgan had set up a cot underneath it. Donnovan carefully lay Adriana down on his unfurled traveling cot, pushing them both as far under the rock cover as possible it so as to protect the girl from next morning's sun. As he did so, she turned onto her side, her head nodding semi-consciously, pushing deeper into the small traveling pillow.

"What about you?" Morgan asked Donnovan as they sat down around a small battery-powered torch that would be their only source of light.

"I'm fine. I can sleep anywhere." Donnovan shrugged. "I have my blanket." Donnovan said, wrapping himself up and sitting down with his back against the rock, several feet from Adriana.

"So I didn't ask before," Morgan began, digging into the pack of repossessedgoods.

Donnovan cut her off. "Where do I know her from? New Canaan."

"She did mention that letter. Apparently it doesn't want to go to New Canaan."

"That would imply it has omnipotent powers, or some shit." Donnovan laughed.

"Well, we've got three small bottles of water here from those Legion soldiers…" Morgan noted, digging through the gear. "I think you and I will be alright sharing one. She'll need a lot more water, though. She should get the other two bottles. I'll save the remaining snack cakes for her too. She needs calories."

"Since when do you care?" Donnovan raised an eyebrow.

"I don't." Morgan retorted bluntly. "You do." She went back to her pack. "We might be able to trade some of these Legionaries' weapons for some water when we get back to the populated Mojave. This N99 is in alright shape. Should get us a few bottles at least."

"Well since there's all of those Legion camps up North, we've been going more West-Northwest than North northwest." Donnovan said, glancing at his Pipboy. In the cot, Adriana shivered. Donnovan briefly glanced at her before continuing. "We can't be too far. I mean it only took… what, a day and a half to get to that plane… if that?"

"Yes, and that was from our house outside of Vegas. We only need to reach one of the border towns to get water." Morgan craned her head back, looking at the stars. "I'd guess that… with her slowing us down…" she glanced at Adrianna. "We should hit a trading area an hour or two before sundown tomorrow. We need to avoid going North, though."

"Legion?" Donnovan asked.

"And radiation." Morgan said, digging out a box of Dandy Boy Apples and tossing one to Donnovan.

He caught it. "What radiation?"

"The Legion irradiated a NCR-held town, apparently." Morgan explained, grabbing one for herself and stowing the box away. Adriana gave another shiver, this accompanied by a sharp, shuddering inhale.

"Oh god dammit." Donnovan cursed, pushing away from the rock wall and walking over to Adriana. He removed the blanket from his shoulders and tossed it over Adriana, tucking in the corners. He sat back down in his original spot, avoiding Morgan's gaze. To her credit, she didn't press her usual advice that he does too much, and went back to searching through the bag.

"That looks familiar." Morgan commented, pulling a scoped .44 revolver out of the bag.

"Good it see it's still intact." Donnovan nodded, impressed.

"Now this looks nice." Morgan said. She withdrew silver M1911 similar in build to Donnovan's. The gun had beautiful ivory grips and the words "Adriana" neatly engraved into the side. Donnovan let out a long, low whistle as Morgan quickly made the gun safe before tossing it to him. He took in its every detail. This wasn't made by the New Canaanites. Though its craftsmanship was significantly rougher and the metal was of lower quality, there was no denying the impressive ornate style.

"Here." Donnovan grunted, tossing the gun back to Morgan. "I'm sure she'll be pissed that we even touched it."

"She doesn't have the right to be mad at us about anything." Morgan frowned. "We saved her life."

"Yeah, when she wakes up, you can try convincing her of that…" Donnovan gave a short laugh. "… Because she's great with logic when angry."

"So she's like you then."

"Low blow, Morgan… Low blow…"

.

.

.

**Author's note: I apologize how late this is going up. I was a bit busy, and there were some significant delays with the dialogue as I wanted to make sure I got it just right. This chapter is a bit short, mainly so that I can get something up and continue the story. Future updates will not take this long, I promise. Thanks for staying with the story. **


	4. Unknown

**Guess who's back?**

**Back again.**

**Dyadya's back.**

**Tell a friend.**

**PLEASE SEE THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AFTER THE CHAPTER.**

**But for now, let's get back to it:**

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**Part 4 – Unknown**

"Where the hell are we?" Donnovan muttered, squinting into the distance. The day was particularly bright and he, Morgan, and Adriana had been traveling for several hours now. Adriana, rejuvenated after a night's sleep, was fully against being carried again. Donnovan tried making the point that her legs were still in no shape for the whole journey, and it'd be better to save her strength if they had to run, but she didn't listen. It wasn't until Morgan threatened to beat Adriana senseless did the girl finally relent and allow herself to be carried, though not without a foul mood for the first hour or so. Donnovan shifted in his arms so that he could see his Pipboy. "Adri, push that button... no the other one... There you go, thanks."

"So?" Adriana asked, glancing at Donnovan.

"Let's see... Well, if we head straight north from here, we should reach the Mojave proper pretty soon."

"Pretty soon?" Adriana frowned. "Does that thing even work."

"Well yeah, but I didn't mark every town in the Mojave." Donnovan pointed out. "We've just been in the Northeast."

"No need. I see a town there." Morgan, who was standing several yards away from them near the edge of a small cliff, called out. "There are roads leading off of it. I think we're back."

"About time." Donnovan sighed, walking over to Morgan as they all looked out over the cliff. A large, three story building with stone steps leading up to it marked one end of the town. Two large streets ran perpendicular to each other, ending in a t-shape with one side of the shape continuing on into the distance, flanked with buildings of all shapes and sizes, including a two-story red brick structure. "What's it called?"

"That's Nipton." Adriana spoke up. She suddenly went still in Donnovan's arms as she looked out at the town. Her shoulders tensed and her eyes narrowed. "Put me down, okay?"

She actually asked it more than commanded it, so Donnovan carefully did so, his arm still around her back as her legs touched the dirt. They shook slightly at first, but steadied quickly. After bending her knees several times, Adriana gripped Donnovan's shoulder for support, and began stretching out her legs, one at a time.

"You good to go?" Donnovan asked.

"Yeah." Adriana said with a groan as she turned, walking a few paces back and forth to warm up her legs. "Can't look weak going into Nipton."

"What? Why?"

"There's only one way to find out, isn't there?" Morgan shrugged and turned around, walking along the ridge. They found a neat dirt path leading down from their ridge, and walked forward into the town. A worn, crooked sign greeted them: 'Welcome to Nipton'. The streets were surprisingly clean, and besides the wear of the Post-War ages, the buildings seemed taken care of. The inhabitants of the town were of a different caliber, however. Two prostitutes stood on the corners where the streets met, calling out to everyone and anyone that passed by. One of them blew a kiss towards Donnovan, who ignored her. The diseases here must be rampant... Most of the people wandering the streets were men. Bald, with thin, whispy mustaches and the shadow of beards, they wore what Donnovan could have sworn looked like prison jumpsuits. As they entered the town, Donnovan became increasingly aware of several of the men looking at Adriana with rapt interest. One of the men licked his lips. Disgusted, Donnovan caught his eye and sneered at him. The man simply grinned and grabbed his crotch in their direction. As they came closer to the town hall, a pale, bald man in a dusty white suit approached them.

"Welcome to our little town!" He grinned from ear to ear. There was something slimy about this man. "If you need aaaanything, make sure to ask me. I'm Mayor Joseph B. Steyn."

"Thank you... You have a doctor here?" Donnovan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of cooourse." Steyn preened. "We have aaaanything you could eeever need." He seemed to have a tendency to extend his vowels in a manner he apparently thought was reassuring, but actually made him sound very condescending. He looked over at Morgan and Adriana, his eyes lingering briefly before turning to Donnovan. "Of course, we could have a private chat about anything you-"

"No." Adriana cut him off, seeing full well where this was going. Steyn's smile flickered, but remained on his face as he eerily glanced at Adriana, then turned back to Donnovan.

"You heard her." Donnovan said. "No. Just point me to the doctor... Oh, and if you can promise me something, I'll make it worth your while."

"Of cooooourse. Aaaaanything-" Steyn began.

"Stop that. Let's get down to business." Donnovan frowned. "I've got a proposal that will be mutually beneficial for both of us."

Steyn dropped his airy voice and his eyes narrowed. "Alright, down to the nitty gritty. What do you want?"

"I'm going to take her to the doctor. She will stay overnight, most likely." Donnovan explained. "We'll be with her the whole time, but from the looks of it, not everyone here's exactly an upstanding citizen. So here's the deal. I have a couple hundred caps in this bag. I'll give you fifty now." Donnovan said. "And another hundred and fifty when we leave, if you can make sure nobody bothers her."

"Deal." Steyn said immediately. "How do I know you've got the full amount?"

"Here's the fifty." Donnovan held his hand out, dropping the payment into the mayor's hand. "You'll see the rest when we leave." He hefted his bag, the large amount of remaining caps jingling in the bag. "These are all caps. I'm good for the money, if you're good for the deal."

"Fair enough." Steyn pocketed the fifty caps. "That building, there." He pointed to a neat house, built in an L shape.

"Thank you." Donnovan nodded. With that, the trio approached the house they had been directed to. As Donnovan opened the door to let Morgan and Adriana through, the wood of the door clipped a small bell hanging from the ceiling. Its ring echoed through the old but clean, wooden interior of the building. Several couches and chairs were nearby, a hallway stretched forward then looped to the right, and to their left, a doorway led to a large room. Inside, three clean beds were pushed into three of the corners, with the forth one across from the doorway, being taken up by a desk. Behind it sat an older man, pouring over papers. A black hat sat snugly on his head, not succeeding in taming the tangled brown hair that hung down past his chin and the nape of his neck. The surprisingly clean cut horseshoe mustache on his face twitched as he read the papers, his eyes narrowing through the circle-framed glasses that sat on his nose.

"I told you I'm not seeing your whores again this month." The man said gruffly without looking up.

"I… what?" Donnovan asked, bewildered.

The doctor looked up, and his expression immediately changed to one of mild surprise. "Oh, I apologize." The doctor shook his head. "The mayor's been getting on my nerves these past few weeks. Can I help you?"

"Yes, please." Donnovan said, motioning to Adriana, who quietly came forward. The doctor stood out of his chair and briskly walked over to her as she held out her wrists, showing where the Legion's ropes had rubbed them raw and bloody.

"I see. Do you mind if I ask what happened?" The doctor queried matter-of-factly.

"I do." Adriana answered, but with no hint of aggravation. "Those two got me out of a bad situation, let's leave it at that… I don't mean to offend."

"It is not my business, I was simply making conversation. No offense taken." The doctor nodded. "Your ankles as well, I see… Now this I must confirm. These look like they were left by ropes. Is that correct?"

Adriana nodded.

"You seem skinny as well, to an unhealthy point." The doctor went on.

Adriana raised an eyebrow and glanced at Donnovan.

"Like we haven't told you that." Donnovan crossed his arms. He turned, addressing the doctor. "Yes, we figured she needed food and water in addition to medical attention, Dr. …?"

"Hayren." He nodded. "Well, it's nothing too serious. Food and water, and some antiseptic and bandages for those wrists… I'd recommend she stays at least one night. We'll see how her wounds are tomorrow."

"How much with that cost, doctor?" Donnovan asked, reaching into his bag.

"One hundred fifty caps should cover food, water, supplies, and rest for one night." Dr. Hayren calculated.

As Donnovan counted out the amount, the doctor looked up at him.

"I should warn you, this town doesn't have the best reputation as far as safety for young women." Dr. Hayren explained.

"Figured as much." Donnovan said. "I'm paying off the mayor to keep everyone away."

"Smart move." The doctor said. "Those Powder Gangers don't listen to most people. The mayor's one of the few that can control them in this town… Possibly because he runs all of the whoring..."

"Powder Gangers?"

"NCR ex-cons." The doctor said as he pointed out a bed to Adriana. She sat down on the edge of it silently as the doctor went on with his examination. "They were brought up to blast through the rocks with dynamite and make way for rail lines."

"They gave ex-cons dynamite…?" Morgan asked with an air of disbelief.

"Indeed. Wasn't the best idea, was it?" Dr. Hayren answered, turning to a nearby medical cart and handing Adriana a bottle of water. "Drink that. I'll get to work on your injuries." He turned to Morgan. "They managed to free themselves. Even took over an NCR prison."

"So these Powder Gangers don't live here, then?" Donnovan shook his head in confusion.

"Not quite. They visit during the day, taking part in the whoring and other services." Dr. Hayren explained as he took Adriana's pulse. "You should be alright, miss. Go ahead and lay down."

"Thank you." Adriana nodded, graciously accepting the offer and stretching out on the bed.

"Most of my patients are fine here." Dr. Hayren explained. "The mayor keeps everyone out… For obvious reasons... And with you paying him off, she will be safe for sure. Steyn may be an evil son of a bitch, but he's a business man. A deal is a deal with him. Feel free to go get some food or water. You look like you need the latter especially."

Donnovan glanced at Adriana, who nodded. "Go for it." She said. "I'm fine."

"Let' s go, Don. You know as well as I do that we need to get more supplies. We will only leave for a short while." Morgan suggested. "The sun is setting, let's hurry."

"Dr. Hayren…" Donnovan began as Morgan stood up, shouldering her pack. "Do you mind if I ask you a somewhat personal question?"

"Depends on the subject." The doctor said with no sign of anger.

"Okay… You are rather out of place here." Donnovan said. "You seem like an honest man, you have medical training… Couldn't you find a better paying set up somewhere else?"

"Possibly." The doctor nodded. "The pay here isn't too bad, surprisingly. The main reason is those poor girls."

"The… Uh… The…."

"The whores." Dr. Hayren finished Donnovan's fumbling sentence. "They get treated like garbage by anyone and everyone who comes through here. The mayor treats them worse than anyone else. I am the only human contact they have that isn't using and abusing them physically."

"I see…" Donnovan grunted.

"They deserve better. I can't exactly just free them from this life, but I can at least ease the pain, however slightly, when they visit me for check-ups." Dr. Hayren said, glancing out the window.

"That's very noble of you."

"Noble?" Dr. Hayren raised an eyebrow. "It's to assuage my own guilt that I have no power, or rather haven't given a thought as to how to end this. I'm sure if I didn't have a conscience, I'd have left long before now… But you should get going. Your companion seems antsy."

"Damn right I am." Morgan spoke up. "Let's go."

"Fine, fine… Christ. Let's go." Donnovan sighed, making his way out of the doctor's office and into the streets, Morgan following.

As they stood, watching people file by, Donnovan stretched and looked at the desert stretching in every direction. In the setting sun, he could make out a small cluster of buildings to the southeast. As he looked on, he could've sworn he saw something shining. Curiosity getting the better of him, he briefly turned a corner, making sure no one was watching him. As quickly as he could, he lifted Dusk's rifle scope to his eye for a better view. Just barely, he could make out the fading outline of a figure on a rooftop before the glint from the figure's own scope took over. He quickly lowered his rifle, not wanting to seem like a threat and rejoined Morgan.

"What was that all about?" She asked him.

"Someone's keeping an eye on this place. Over there." He pointed in the direction of the buildings.

"Well if you're done sightseeing, let's go get our supplies. I really don't want to be out here past nightfall." Morgan took in her surroundings as two Powder Gangers passed by, staring at her. One stopped and came forward.

"Hey there honey." He said with a slimly tone, his hand rising to Morgan's check. "How about we go somewhere private and you can show-"

Morgan's hand closed around the Powder Ganger's palm, her thumb finding the gap between the pinky and ring finger, just below the knuckle. She cranked hard, dropping the man to his knees with a shriek of pain.

"Don't ever touch me you worm." She said through gritted teeth, her voice laced with poison. She maintained the force on the man's wrist as he shook with pain.

"FUCK! FUCK! OKAY!" He yelled. The scene was starting to draw attention.

"Morgan, let's go." Donnovan suggested. "Let's try not to be our usual selves here. This always ends with the town burning and us running away, or some shit."

Morgan took in the growing attention they were getting, and released the man, who curled up on the ground, clutching his wrist.

"Despicable." Morgan shook her head, throwing one last insult at the man before she joined Donnovan and they continued onward. As they did so, Donnovan took note of one particular man who had paused to watch the scene. He was completely out of place in this town, far more than he and Morgan were. He wore the unmistakable garb of the Legion. Red armor converted from old sports equipment. He had a lanky, wirey frame, not unlike Donnovan's. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, and covering his hair was the head of a wolf. Something about this man was different than the stranded Legionaries the Corps had encountered in Dogtown. The troops there seemed without purpose. This man was the exact opposite. Focused and composed, he watched Donnovan and Morgan with rapt attention as they walked.

He never made a move, threatening or otherwise, but simply continued to stare at them, his face completely blank. Donnovan had only ever seen Colonel Autumn manage an expression exactly like that.

Donnovan and Morgan continued past the Legion soldier to a nearby trading stand. It was completely wooden, a shack in every sense of the word. The shelves behind the counter were stocked with a variety of goods, though it was the bottles of water that the travelers had their eyes on, despite the fact that they were rather dirty looking.

"Waddaya want?" The shop owner grunted. He was a bald, overweight man with a sheen of sweat on his forehead and small, sunken eyes.

"Water." Morgan answered curtly.

The shop owner began to reach for the bottles on the shelves.

"Clean water." Donnovan stated.

"That's quite a bit more, you know."

"I figured." Donnovan raised an eyebrow. "How much."

"Sev'ty five caps a bottle."

"Does that come with a hit of jet and a blow job? God damn." Donnovan grunted, digging into his pockets. "Three bottles… Oh, give me those snack cakes and that sack of fruits."

"Tree hundred fity," The owner grunted.

"Here." Donnovan placed the payment on the counter. Usually he was much more formal with vendors, but something about this town just made him want to be rude to everyone.

"Tanks." The man grunted, accepting the payment as Donnovan and Morgan took their purchases and went on their way.

"That wasn't exactly a friendly conversation."

"Fuck him." Donnovan shook his head as they walked by the same Legion soldier as before. He was still standing in the same location, and yet again, he watched them silently. "Dude seemed like a total prick."

"Back to the doc?" Donnovan asked.

"Seems like the best option." Morgan glanced around. "This town…"

"Yeah… I'd rather not split up." Donnovan agreed as they made their way back into the doctor's office. They eventually, with the doctor's permission, all gathered around Adrianna's bed. Dr. Hayren joined them several minutes in, and they all sat, discussing topics ranging from the trio's current travels and the doctor's history.

"So you decided to wander into Legion territory?" The doctor said, his mustache twitching in amusement.

"We had nothing else to do." Donnovan shrugged. "Well, besides the casinos, but I can only do that for so many times in a row. Seems to always end horribly if I hang out there for too long, too."

"Like being thrown into Freeside?" Morgan suggested.

"Yeah, something along those lines." Donnovan grinned.

From outside, there was the sudden ring of a gunshot and a scream.

Donnovan and Morgan both jerked and stood up, while the doctor remained where he was.

"It's not a real night in Nipton without someone getting shot." Dr. Hayren muttered.

"You help everyone who gets injured?" Donnovan asked.

"Most of them." Dr. Hayren nodded. "I don't let the Powder Gangers in though."

"I wonder why…" Donnovan grunted sarcastically. Hayren, however, had paused. "Something wrong, doc?"

"There's usually more gunfire answering the first shot." Hayren answered, standing up and walking toward the window. He was several paces away when the window was filled with light that could only have come from a fire. Hayren peered through the window briefly before whirling around. "We have to hide. NOW."

Not needing a second command, Donnovan and Morgan stood up. "What's wrong?"

"Legion." Dr. Hayren stated, and the blood drained out of Adriana's face.

"Fuck me." Donnovan grunted. "Maybe they-" He was interrupted as the front door was kicked in. Heavy footsteps thudded down the hallways as Donnovan and Morgan drew their weapons. Seconds later, two massive Legionaries appeared in the doorway, each gripping Mp10s. Normally, Donnovan and Morgan would have opened fire, but the two men did not have their weapons raised, and something was stopping them from shooting. Both Donnovan and Morgan had come to the realization that they were probably outnumbered. The Legion soldiers were gripping them at the ready, but kept them low. Donnovan was just wondering about this when several slower steps came down the hallway, and a third legionary appeared in the doorway. It was the one that had been watching Donnovan and Morgan earlier.

"You, travelers, do not seem like the type one would find in this town, though this debased place does serve anyone and everyone." His voice was steady and deliberate with an undertone that made it seem like he was analyzing everything about the people he was speaking to. This man obviously chose his words carefully and was not someone to be trifled with, mentally or physically.

"I'm not sure how to respond to that." Donnovan said.

"Your response must be your own. Your reaction, however, must be immediate and as I tell you."

"Say what?" Donnovan raised an eyebrow.

"Who are you?" Morgan asked.

"My name is Vulpes Inculta, and I serve the great Caesar. Nipton is about to be purged from this desert, and I suggest you leave immediately so as not to be caught in the cleansing. All except for you." He turned his head and locked onto Donnovan.

"Why me?" Donnovan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"As I have stated previously, you are not a local resident. That Pip-Boy you try so hard to hide is one reason. Your apparent lack of allegiances in the Mojave is another."

"What do you intend to do with him?" Morgan asked, while Adriana continued to stare. She had not said a word since the Legionaries had burst into the house.

"We will take him to Caesar. He will no doubt show interest in your friend."

"What about the others?" Donnovan asked. He had not lowered his weapon, but had shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his Pip-Boy.

"There are two options. We can either subdue all of you and take you by force, or you can secure safe passage for your companions."

"You'll let them go? Morgan, Adriana, and Dr. Hayren?" Donnovan asked.

"We had originally intended to include the good doctor in the cleansing, but I sensed that was no longer an option upon your visit to his clinic." Vulpes Inculta stated.

"You let the three of them go, I'll gladly go with you."

"Donnovan…"

"Morgan… Go…" Donnovan urged. "Take Adri and the doc and get the hell out of here." He turned back to Vulpes. "You'll honor our agreement?"

"Despite what you may have heard about the Legion, we have a sense of honor." Vulpes explained. "A Legionary breaks his honor at the cost of his life. This is why we execute legionaries who flee."

Morgan expression was hardened as usual, but Adri's, for once, showed worry.

"Will you be alright?" Adriana asked Donnovan."

"As I said, I will honor our agreement." Vulpes repeated. "You two may leave safely along with the doctor, so long as your friend surrenders his weapons temporarily and comes with us."

"Are you certain you want to do this?" Morgan asked.

"It's like he said, he can either kill us all, or let you three go, and eventually me as well." Donnovan grunted, swinging Dusk's rifle from his back. "This is borrowed from one of my other companions, so it's going back with her." Donnovan more stated it than asked it. He turned and held it out for Morgan.

"May I request that you take the ammunition out of the magazine…?" Vulpes asked softly. "We'd prefer to not have either side break our arrangement."

"Gotcha." Donnovan grunted, removing the magazine and checking the bolt before handing the gun to Morgan. He removed the rounds and stowed them in his pack. He showed the empty magazine to Vulpes before tossing it to Morgan. She stared at him for a second. "Get going already, would you?" Donnovan grunted.

She nodded, and with that, went on her way. Dr. Hayren helped Adriana to her feet. He quickly gathered his most vital medical supplies haphazardly into two large bags before throwing his head in the direction of the door.

Donnovan watched his companions leave before turning around. He could've sworn he saw Adriana glance back at him with wide eyes, but he couldn't be sure.

Donnovan allowed one of Vulpes' legionaries to remove his pack, but stopped the man when he reached for his pistol. "Sorry, but I'd prefer for this to be well taken care of." He removed the 1911 from its holster, making it safe and removing the clip. He tossed it in a circle and caught it half-way through its arc so he was gripping it barrel first as he stretched it out to Vulpes.

"Understandable." Vulpes said, taking the gun with a respectful nod as Donnovan gave him the clip. Donnovan removed his knife and handed it to the legionary he had snubbed earlier. "Sorry man. That gun… It's just something I really want to keep track of. It's not that I don't trust you in particular… I just can find your officer much more easily because, no offense, but a lot of you guys look the same."

The legionary simply nodded wordlessly, but looked significantly happier at this explanation.

"Shall we get going?" Vulpes asked.

"Ready when you are." Donnovan nodded.

"What is your name?" Vulpes suddenly asked.

"I'm Donnovan Edan."

"Well Donnovan Edan, follow us."

"Sure… Oh… You mind telling me how you, uh… "cleansed" this place?"

"We prefer the flame and wood of old." Vulpes explained matter of factly as they all stepped out into the street.

"Uh… What's that me-HOLY SHIT!"

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**Did you miss me? It's been a while ladies and gentlemen, and I truly apologize for that. Quite a lot has happened in the time we've been apart. As of two months ago, I have been living and working in Japan. I had only planned to take a month or two break from writing, but got very busy planning my move to a new nation. In addition, within five days of my arrival in this beautiful country, my laptop power brick decided to die on me. It took me quite a while to get oriented and settle here in a foreign country, so between the chaos of the first few weeks of work and getting paperwork done, I was very busy and fixing the computer was the last thing on my mind (I could access e-mail and Skype through my phone). I also had to apply for car insurance, buy a car, get a phone, and so on and so forth. For some reason, upon arrival in Tokyo, none of the foreigners (not counting tourists/visitors, as they don't need anything besides their passports) arriving that day received resident cards (otherwise known as gaijin cards, "gajin" being the plain form of the Japanese word for foreigner, "gaikokujin"). Let me tell you, trying to set up almost anything even slightly useful in Japan as a foreigner is a BITCH without the gaijin card, and I had to wait several weeks until mine arrived through the mail. **

**Because the Japanese love paperwork and ****bureaucracy to a ridiculous point, it takes a long-ass time (no exaggeration here, actual weeks) to get even simple things done, and I kept putting off fixing my computer since I didn't have internet anyway. But I now have the computer up and running after**** ordering a replacement power brick from an awesome local computer shop, and I'm back in action as far as writing goes. I should finally have high-speed internet in my apartment on the 15****th****, so up****dates will be much more regular after that.**

**I have gotten quite a few messages in my absence, with the senders telling me how good the stories I wrote were and asking me to continue them. To all of you who sent me messages during this time, I have no shortage of thanks to give you. It truly makes a writer feel appreciated when such compliments are given to what he writes, even months after he stops.**

**Above is the fourth chapter to Back to the West: The Damned. I apologize if it's a bit awkward, as I haven't written in a long time. It might take a chapter or two for me to get my writing flow back to where it was before this long break. Either way, I still have the storyline planned out, and I hope you enjoy reading about the adventures of the Corps of Rediscovery.**

**Again, thank you to everyone who used to read, is reading, and will be reading this series.**


	5. Inculta

**Part 5 - Inculta**

The entire town had been set aflame, buildings burning, while many of the Powder Gangers had been gruesomely crucified. The crosses had been set across from each other on either side of the main road through the town. On each cross, a bloodied, beaten, and bruised man was strung up. Nails had been hammered through their wrists and ankles.

Mayor Steyn's corpse was laid in the middle of a massive bonfire, flames reaching high into the air and a pillar of smoke stretching even higher.

"A cruce salus." Vulpes smiled knowingly, pointing at the crucified men.

"Fuck me…" Donnovan gaped. "Why did you do this?"

"A lesson. A Cleansing." Vulpes said softly.

Donnovan was about to argue as he usually did, but for once, something in his mind stopped him from commenting. "I'm… not sure how I feel about this." He muttered, managing to dilute his opinion on the situation.

"Your feelings are irrelevent." Vulpes chuckled. "Righteous, are the ways of the Legion. Your agreement or disagreement with them has no bearing. Must you be reminded that you still stand prisoner?"

Donnovan managed to recover quite quickly from the shock of the town around him burning. After what he and his comrades had been through, something like this was now, unfortunately, considered rather common. Vulpes noticed Donnovan's expression.

"Troubled thoughts leave mind faster than expected." Vulpes glanced sideways at him as the other Legion troops gathered around, preparing to leave.

"I've seen more than one town burned to the ground, destroyed, or attacked on my journey here." Donnovan frowned. "Hell, just a few months back, I barely escaped New Canaan." The lower-ranking legionaries glanced at each other before looked at Donnovan curiously.

"You laid eyes upon burning of New Canaan?" Vulpes asked. "How many White Legs fell by your hand?"

"Several… Why do you ask?" Donnovan raised an eyebrow. His bravado had briefly returned to him. He recognized this and that fact that it would probably get him killed, and immediately forced his expression back to a blank one.

"New Canaan was a trial for the White Legs. They were to join Caesar's Legion." Vulpes explained.

"The trial was to… wipe out a peaceful town…?" Donnovan asked. "Why? They weren't harming anyone…"

"It is not your place to question. Assignment was brought to White Legs, and they failed in full completion. Though extent of failure is now more apparent."

"Huh?"

"Well…" Vulpes gave a maniacal grin. "My assumption is that your companions struck several more White Legs from this world as they fled?"

"This conversation's really freaking me out…" Donnovan's eyes grew wide. "I've got a hell of a lot more questions than when I got started… Each answer you give leads to five more questions…"

"We are taking leave. Follow, but hold questions until we leave territory of the Bear." Vulpes explained.

Donnovan tried to protest, but Vulpes' expression quickly shut his mouth. With no other choice, the traveler followed the legionaries east, leaving the burning town of Nipton behind. His mind was racing with questions about the events that had transpired, but Vulpes had hushed him once they were out of Nipton. It was quite a while before the restriction was lifted.

"We have made good time." Vulpes announced, briefly glancing into the sky as the sun began to set. "Let us rest for several minutes before continuing."

The group found itself near a small alcove. One of the legionaries sat near the edge to keep watch, while the others all rested their backs against the rock walls, several watching Donnovan with interest.

"So Vulpes…" Donnovan said, pausing so as to arrange the question correctly in his mind. "Why the focus on me?"

"Your comrades were of interest, but they are women…" Vulpes paused. "We are aware of what the profligates say about the Legion's treatment of women. I take it you shared those opinions?"

"Is what they say true?" Donnovan blurted out before he could stop himself.

Vulpes paused, raising an eyebrow. The shadow of a knowing smirk was on his face. "Turn thought to first question. You are not from this region, and your skills are significantly more developed than those of a powder ganger."

"How do you know I'm not part of the NCR?" Donnovan asked.

"Well for one, the way you speak reveals more than you intend." Vulpes smirked.

"Oh… right…" Donnovan muttered. He'd have to be much more careful speaking with someone like Vulpes. This man hung on to every word.

"Thought did cross mind, but your weaponry and equipment are not of NCR standard issue. Other factors were present." Vulpes explained.

"So… Caesar." Donnovan said, remembering to pronounce the name the way a certain blonde mercenary he'd met insisted he should. "What's he like?"

"You will know in person soon enough." Vulpes answered simply.

"I see." Donnovan nodded. "Any idea on exactly when we'll reach our destination?"

"Not long." Vulpes said. "We will arrive just prior to midnight."

Donnovan nodded silently as he let his thoughts overtake him. He had traveled from the ruins of D.C. all the way to the Mojave with his companions. All along the way they had run into almost every problem imaginable, save for Super Mutant Behemoths. Now, Donnovan was prisoner of Caesar's Legion. When he was captured by the Midwestern Brotherhood, he wasn't nearly as worried. This was due to the fact that at least his comrades were familiar with the fighting style and tactics of the Midwesterners. They knew almost nothing about the Legion. Now that Donnovan thought of it, was he really a prisoner? His weapons were only taken from him temporarily, as Vulpes had assured him. He had been told he would meet with Caesar, then be set free. Whether or not this would turn out to be true, he would have to see. The fact remained, however, that this was undoubtedly a rather lax way to treat a "prisoner". Donnovan nodded, wondering if the Legion truly were as bad as he had heard. This thought was in his head for barely a few seconds before he remembered the way they had been dragging Adriana. Though the Legion's misogyny was no doubt a part of the different treatment, there was something else to it. Donnovan wasn't new to the wastes. He began to wonder what use Caesar could possibly get out of him, as that was undoubtedly the only reason he hadn't been killed and Morrigan and Adriana hadn't been taken into slavery. If the Legion's leader found there wasn't a use for Donnovan, would Caesar order him executed? His train of thought was interrupted as Vulpes stood up.

"That will do." He said softly. They all nodded, standing back up. "Let us move on."

The group traveled on, and the sun had set several hours before they reached a cluster of tall cliffs overlooking the water. A steep path led down to a flat beach where a cluster of houses and a large cage could be seen from the group's current position at the top of the cliffs. Several docks stretched out over the water.

"Cottonwood Cove." Vulpes announced as he started down the path, several of the legionaries following him. One of the other held his arm out flat, motioning for Donnovan to go ahead and nodding respectfully. Donnovan returned the nod and followed the Legion troops down the embankment.

"This is kind of an outpost of yours?" Donnovan asked as they carefully made their way down the path, small rocks rolling downhill in their wake.

"It is." Vulpes said. "Well-defended… In several ways." He motioned his arm at an unconscious man set up on a cross, similar to the Powder Gangers in Nipton. Donnovan winced as he glanced at the man, but there was nothing he could do. If he stepped out of line, the Legionaries would no doubt intervene. Vulpes noticed Donnovan's dilemma. "Turn thought from mind. We have brought you here for specified reason only. Our rules, not yours."

Donnovan nodded and turned his gaze from the sight as the group finally reached the cluster of buildings. Two legionary troops came up.

"Ave, Inculta." One of the legionaries said.

"Ave, Quintus."

"What is this?"

"A prisoner." Vulpes answered simply.

"I'll have him join others." Quintus muttered, taking a step forward.

"No." Vulpes held his hand out. "This one is to be kept separate. He is to see Caesar."

"I… I understand." Quintus looked troubled. "Where will he rest?"

"With us, in soldier's housing." Vulpes said.

"Sir, would you not prefer officer's housing?" Quints asked, confused.

"No, I'd rather keep sight on him." Vulpes stated. "However, if he makes attempt at freedom… Kill him."

"Of course." Quintus nodded. He turned to his companion and nodded. The soldier turned and jogged off into a nearby building.

"What now?" Donnovan asked Vulpes.

"This is lodging for the night." Vulpes said, motioning his arm. "You will be in soldier's barracks before twenty-three hundred. For the next hour, feel free to explore the camp."

"Seriously?" Donnovan cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes. Interfere in legionary work however, and see head swiftly parted from shoulders."

"Gotcha." Donnovan winced at the thought.

After being shown his lodgings, Donnovan took to wandering around the small camp under the suspicious glare of the legionaries. He stepped to the edge of the water that lapped against the shore and examined the docks. There was a large barge that would undoubtedly take him, Vulpes, and the others to meet Caesar. Of more interest, however, was a cluster of small rowboats that had just arrived. Several legionaries had set foot on the dirt. They looked significantly different than most of the soldiers that were stationed here in Cottonwood Cove. These looked to be decorated veterans of the Legion. All half dozen of the men were huge and muscular, one or two even surpassing Glade's height. They carried an assortment of weapons, from assault rifles to vicious looking shotguns. Donnovan immediately felt a sense of awe as he stared at these Legion soldiers, and a chill ran down his back. The last time he had been this amazed was when he had first come in contact with the Brotherhood of Steel in the ruins of downtown D.C.

He shook himself awake after taking note of one of the Legionaries looking at him curiously and went back up the pathway to the largest house. He had originally paid no attention to the fenced area connected directly to the house when he suddenly heard a voice.

"Hey, hey you!" It was hushed and whispering. Donnovan did a double take. Knowing that eyes were upon him, watching his every move, he decided to make the most of what time he'd have. He immediately stepped over to the fence to see a man, woman, and two children who had to be theirs. The young girl and her brother were pressed against the fence, staring at Donnovan.

"Who are you? You're not Legion."

"No. I'm a prisoner though." Donnovan explained.

"So are we." The girl indicated the bomb collar on her neck. "Can you help us?"

"They took my guns, my weapons." Donnovan said. "Even if they didn't, I'd be downed after killing the first legionary…"

"We're stuck too." The young boy hissed. "They have bomb collars on our necks." He swallowed slightly and winced. "They're uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry… There's nothing I can do."

"Please, do something."

"I don't have my weapons." Donnovan cut her off, gritting his teeth. "There's nothing I can do, I'd be endangering my-"

"Hey! Step back from the cage!" A voice called. Two legionaries were walking up to the cage, guns drawn. Donnovan recognized one as Quintus.

"These are prisoners of the Legion." Quintus said. "Consider yourself lucky you are not among them with bomb collar around neck."

Donnovan raised his hands as he back away. "Just exploring. Asking questions."

"Move away." The other legionaries commented. "Keep your wanderings from the other prisoners."

"Alright, alright... Don't shit a brick..." Donnovan grunted, raising his hands and backing away slowly. He turned and walked away from the cage. For the first time in his life, he felt nothing. There was no feeling of pity for the prisoners, no wondering about what he could do. This surprised and slightly frightened him. How much had he changed since he left the Citadel? Had he finally decided that the fate of those outside of the Brotherhood and his friends didn't matter? These questions spun in his head until he noticed the sun begin to set, and he hurried to the bunk house. Upon entry, he was immediately greeted by two of the legionaries.

"Sit." One commanded, pointing at a bunk. Donnovan glanced at the man before doing as he was told. Vulpes came from around the corner.

"You will not leave bunkhouse now." Vulpes stated. "If you make attempt, your life will end. This house has water and bathrooms. It will suffice until morning."

Donnovan nodded. "Understood."

"Any questions you may have?" Vulpes asked.

Donnovan shook his head. "Nah, I'm set."

"We will wake you when time comes."

Donnovan watched the legionaries busy themselves with their cots. His mind was on the prisoners he saw. Despite his reasoning, he didn't believe it. It was true that he would be killed before he could make an significant rescue effort would he try, but that was not the reason he didn't do it. His mind was set on meeting Caesar and getting out alive. He simply felt nothing for the people behind the cages. That realization terrified him. He had always tried to be compassionate, but lately he had been having moments that tested that. Was Morgan's philosophy finally beginning to take root? These thoughts stayed in his mind as he stretched out on his cot, eventually drifting into an uneasy sleep.

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Morning came, the sun softly coming in through the cracks of the cabin. For a brief moment as he woke, Donnovan believed he was back in the Corps re-purposed house outside New Vegas. He stretched in his bed and sat up. The image immediately disappeared as he laid eyes upon the massive legionary guarding the door. Donnovan grimaced before pushing himself out of the bed. He had slept fully clothed, so at least he could get moving immediately. He looked around for the bathroom in the house. As he stood up, the legionary guarding the door tensed and took a step forward.

"I'm gonna take a piss. You gonna shake for me?" Donnovan asked, his voice loaded with sarcasm.

The legionary paused, then returned to his post by the door. Donnovan shook his head before wandering into the bathroom. Upon his exit, he found Vulpes and another legionary waiting for him.

"Are you rested?" Vulpes asked. "The journey is rather long."

"I'm ready. Let's get this over with." Donnovan grunted, walking over to his pack and throwing it over his shoulders.

"Follow." Vulpes commanded.

Donnovan did so, walking out of the building and out into the bustling camp. The pace was quick and determined, this time. Vulpes marched straight ahead, giving Donnovan almost no time to look around. He did manage to steal one last glance at the captured slaves. The boy and girl stared at him pitifully as he looked back. He forced himself to tear his eyes away as he followed the legionaries to the docks.

They found themselves standing in front of a large raft guarded by a particularly tall legionary.

"Ave Lucullus." Vulpes said.

"Ave Vulpes." Lucullus returned the greeting. "Who is this on leash?"

"Donnovan." Vulpes answered simply. "He is to see Caesar."

"Understood." Lucullus nodded. "Then let us go."

Donnovan glanced at the raft. Though well-put together, there were no railings or safeguards of any kind. Vulpes seemed to read Donnovan's mind.

"In the Legion, the careless do not survive."

"In the real world, there are accidents." Donnovan shot back, before he could cut back.

"Your "accidents" stand as blessings to the Legion. The weak and unobservant are weeded out." Vulpes responded calmly. "I would guess your views match those of the Legion to some extent, just not to our... enthusiasm?"

Donnovan bit his lip. There was it was again. Those nasty, nagging thought again that he had tried so hard to suppress the last few years. His mind drifted to a rather unpleasant realization. Though brutal, the Legion's view on this was obviously effective. They had conquered countless tribes, only truly failing once. He had begun to wonder why the weak should even be protected, when the raft shifted and interrupted him. His he leaned slightly to accommodate the weight shift as he was brought back to reality. He glanced at the Legionaries. Most were looking back at Cottonwood Cove. Vulpes, however, had his eyes set directly on Donnovan. Yet again, that eerie, blank expression unnerved Donnovan. It was as if Vulpes knew everything that was going on inside Donnovan's head.

Donnovan looked away and up the river. He'd have quite a difficult time attempting to keep the Frumentarii out of his head during this long trip.

**A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. I have had probably the worst case of writer's block and just got very busy. I'm still living in Japan and will be for the next year and a half or so. You guys know how it is. Life sometimes just gets busy and things move on.**

**I simply could not continue this chapter until recently, hence why this one might not be of the highest quality. I finally got a random drive to finish it today. Outside of that, I haven't been writing much in general, and instead been out and about in Japan and Asia. I sincerely apologize to my readers. I can't promise it, but I will try to be much more consistent with updates from now on.**

**Thanks in particular to Deacon1217 and Scarlet Rabbit who asked me about the story's future. :)**


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